


stepping on seashells

by MiniNephthys



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: To get his sister off his back, Dogma takes Walter to the festival.  Walter accepts, because... because.





	stepping on seashells

**Author's Note:**

> For commission!

“It is good to see Russell talking to others more, isn’t it?” Dogma says, coming up to Walter’s side.

“It is.” Interaction with the dream increases likelihood of a success, he doesn’t add. Let Dogma assume his reasons for observing Russell as he pokes around the preparations for the seaside festival are the same as his.

“I worry about that boy…” Dogma clears his throat. He looks suddenly ten times more awkward. “That, erm, isn’t actually why I approached you, however.”

Walter turns his attention fully onto Dogma.

“My sister has been pushing me to go to the festival for… it must be months now since she began to speak of it. Specifically, to go to the festival with someone.” Dogma’s cheeks are the tiniest bit red. “She means well, but she doesn’t take no for an answer. And I know I’ll never hear the end of it if the festival comes and goes without my attendance, so…”

“You’re asking me to the festival?” Walter says, just to make sure that’s what he’s hearing.

“O-only to get it over with!” Dogma says. Less frantically, he adds, “You understand the bother of having people push you to be more social, so I thought that you wouldn’t mistake my intentions.”

Now that he thinks of it, Walter has complained a couple of times about his coworkers trying to drag him to ‘company dinners’ and ‘anywhere but the office’. Dogma’s logic is sound. Besides, not much is expected to happen today until the end of the festival, so…

“Only to get your sister off your back.”

* * *

They get ice cream first, mostly because they’re both wearing heavy coats.

“Pardon me, but do you not have clothing better suited for warm weather?” Dogma asks.

Walter shakes his head. He’d managed his temperature regulation in his settings, largely because he has less direct control over the clothes he wears. “I travel light.”

“That’s unfortunate. …Well, cooling down with frozen food isn’t such a bad thing, now and then.” Dogma has another bite.

The ice cream isn’t bad, even if he doesn’t need the cold as much as he should. The flavor is sort of between raspberry and watermelon - Walter wonders if it could be made artificially in the real world.

* * *

The Pigula dolls catch Dogma’s attention next.

“Are these popular with children nowadays?” he asks, holding one.

“I’m poorly informed about children’s entertainment,” Walter says, with a raised eyebrow like ‘why even ask’.

“Forgive me. I only thought I recognized them from somewhere…” Dogma stares for a moment more before putting it back on the cart. “Probably one of those computer games everyone is talking about.”

* * *

Walter’s hands get sticky from the festival food. He should have included stickiness controls in his settings. He’ll have to do that for the next dream.

Dogma searches his pockets and finds a folded handkerchief, which he gives to Walter. It’s a nice handkerchief, carefully embroidered with his family name, and for a moment Walter thinks it’s too nice to wipe sticky food on.

He soon remembers himself and where he is, and takes the handkerchief. But he does mutter, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Dogma says.

* * *

For a while they do nothing but sit and watch the sea. This is technically still being at the festival with someone, so it counts.

“Walter, you’re a traveler,” Dogma says, breaking their silence. “Have you ever crossed the sea?”

Walter looks out to the sea and knows that it really is endless; if you tried to swim out there, you would find nothing but ocean and the one island that was included in Russell’s dreamscape.

“Many times,” he says. The sea of unconsciousness counts.

“Would you tell me about other lands? I have never left this small area myself, and I’ve always been curious...”

It’s harmless, Walter decides, and begins to talk about other dreams he’s been in. Not in those words, of course, but the landscapes that were created. One dreamer found himself in a society that lived solely off boats, with no land in sight. Another found herself in a desert with vague similarities to ancient Egypt. Still another made a giant office building from which there was no escape.

Dogma listens to each and every one with the rapt same attention, occasionally speaking up to ask Walter to clarify an unfamiliar term. When Walter finishes, he asks, “Which one is your home?”

Oh. “None of those,” Walter says. “My home… it’s a little like the office building, without the literally being trapped in it.”

“Or else your coworkers couldn’t drag you out,” Dogma says, and Walter nods. He’s silent for a moment or two, mulling over his word choice, before asking, “Is that your favorite place? Home.”

It’s not a question Walter’s ever thought of, because everywhere else isn’t a place. It’s an illusion, bound to fall apart within the week. He can compare a dream to reality, but they’re not the same, and he can never forget that.

He thinks of home. Home, for him, is long work hours until he enters the next dream, spending as little time in his own empty apartment as he can. Home is his coworkers constantly bothering him in his office and him trying to tune them out. It’s a relief to end up in a dream that doesn’t have the worst ones in there with him.

Home is failure after failure.

“…No, I prefer traveling.”

“I see.” Dogma looks back out over the waves. “You’re always welcome to return here, if you want. My doors are open to you - no research mission necessary.”

It’s a laughable thing to say. If only Dogma knew just how wrong he was. If only Walter could tell him that his doors won’t exist soon, and wouldn’t have existed in the first place without his research.

If only he actually could step inside a dream for a moment just to get away from it all.

“Thank you,” Walter says instead. “I’ll remember your offer.”


End file.
